


The Best of My Love

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-30
Updated: 2006-10-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ron and Harry have a secret relationship that they don't talk about.





	The Best of My Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: The title is from an Eagles song, " _The Best of My Love_." It's not a song-fic; it just inspired the plot bunny.  


* * *

::

Ron stretched on the thin patchwork blanket that did nothing to guard his muscles from the unforgiving hardwood floor.   
  
Breathing deeply through his mouth, Harry remained sleeping on his back as Ron reached over him, picking up his clothes.  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen anymore.   
  
They never did it in one of their beds. It always started here, after hours of drinking, and ended here with Ron waking up first, guilt and shame eating away at his guts, relief only coming after he vomited and blamed it on the firewhiskey.   
  
He left Harry, now snoring softly, and showered, washing off the dried come and lube first before sticking two fingers down his throat and letting his sick wash away down the drain.  
  
It was supposed to have stopped after Voldemort died, when they weren't afraid anymore that they were going to be murdered in their sleep, when there were no more funerals for a friend once every fortnight, when they could live normal lives.

::

"What did you and Harry do last night?" Hermione asked, pouring Ron another cup of tea.  
  
"Nothing," he said, dropping sugar cubes – one, two, three - into his cup.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows only slightly, but just enough to make Ron blush, thinking about the truthful answer he didn't give.  
  
"I worry about –"  
  
"Don't," Ron said. "He's fine."  
  
She clucked her tongue but changed the subject. "My parents invited you to dinner on Sunday. If you don't have plans with –"  
  
"No. I'll be there."

::

The refrigerator was stocked with containers of leftovers that had begun to sprout green fur. Ron threw them into the rubbish and replaced them with the bowls Mrs Granger had thrust into his hands right after Mr Granger asked him when he planned on marrying his daughter.  
  
"How was dinner?" Harry asked as he shuffled into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing the same pyjamas Ron had seen him in for three days.  
  
"I thought you and Ginny had a date?"  
  
"She cancelled," Harry said. "Fleur needed her to baby sit Émilie."   
  
"She didn't ask you to come along?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "She asked."  
  
"Dinner was fine."  
  
"Did they ask you when you and Hermione are getting married?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Did you answer?"  
  
"I leave that to Hermione."  
  
"Did she answer?"  
  
"No."

::

At breakfast, eleven days from the last time it had happened, Harry announced, "I'm going on holiday."  
  
Ron gulped down a mouthful of orange juice. "A holiday? With who? Ginny?"  
  
"Yes. Bill's in-laws have a villa in St Tropez. They wanted to thank Ginny for helping take care of the baby while Fleur goes to St Mungo's for her treatments."  
  
"Oh, that's nice of them," Ron said, pushing the runny part of his eggs to the far end of the plate. "Sounds romantic."  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"D'you reckon she thinks you're going to propose?"  
  
Harry shook his head, looking shocked and helpless. "I'm not."  
  
"You should," Ron said, staring at the crinkles between Harry's eyebrows, rather than into the eyes that he had been avoiding for eleven days. It always took at least a fortnight for things to go back to normal. "It's been over a year since things became… normal."  
  
"Why? Are you going to ask Hermione?"  
  
Ron stood up and threw his unfinished breakfast in the rubbish bin. "We weren't talking about Hermione and me."

::

Ron waited until the waiter at Hermione's favourite restaurant served their afters before bringing up his plans for the rest of the evening. "Harry's away. You can stay the night."  
  
"Why can't I stay when Harry's there?"  
  
"I never said you couldn't."  
  
"You never said I could."  
  
Sighing, Ron regretted he had brought it up. "We can stay at your flat."  
  
"I have an early morning meeting."  
  
"Right," Ron mumbled, slicing off a piece of chocolate cake with his fork.   
  
"Ron, do you love me?"  
  
Choking on his cake, he reached for water and swallowed half the glass before his throat felt clear enough to talk.   
  
"I didn't think it was such an appalling question," Hermione said, pushing her plate away.  
  
"I… just didn't expect it. Of course I do."  
  
"Are you in love with me?"  
  
Ron stared at her, trying to work out what she wanted to hear.  
  
"I love you," he said simply.  
  
Looking solemn, she shook her head. "Ron, we need to talk."

::

The flat had been dark for hours until Harry returned home and flicked on the lights. Ron shut his eyelids, shielding his eyes from the abrupt intrusion of light.   
  
"Ron?"  
  
Opening his eyes, Ron waved the half empty bottle of firewhiskey he was holding. "You're home early."  
  
"Just a day," said Harry, dropping his suitcase and sitting across from Ron. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Hermione ended it."  
  
"Ended what?"  
  
"Us."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The silence that followed was oddly comforting, or maybe it was because Ron wasn't alone for the first time in days, but he rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.  
  
Finally, Harry broke the silence. "Why?"  
  
"She said I didn't give her the 'best of my love,'" Ron replied.  
  
"Dunno what that means."  
  
"Neither do I, mate." Ron opened his eyes. "Mental, that one. She said something about loving someone is different than being _in_ love with them."  
  
"I understand that. I love Hermione too, but I'm not _in_ love with her."  
  
"But that's friendship love."  
  
"Maybe that's how you love Hermione. Like a friend."  
  
"Are you _in_ love with Ginny?"  
  
It surprised Ron how quickly Harry answered. "No."  
  
"What?" Ron asked angrily, his instincts flaring to protect his baby sister. "How can you say that?"  
  
Harry stood up and walked towards Ron, and if Ron had been standing, the look in Harry's eyes would've made him step backwards. "Because I was just sitting there wondering if her brother was drunk enough to shag me."

::

They had never talked about it before. Not even a brief mention of it on the odd occasion when they woke up together, naked and wrapped around each other. So Ron didn't know what to say. He only gaped at Harry as Harry spread his legs wider with his hands before dropping to his knees, thinking that no, he wasn't drunk enough.  
  
It was futile to protest since he was already half hard when Harry pulled his cock out; he gripped the chair and watched as Harry's head descended into his lap, taking him into his mouth and drawing an almost mournful moan from his throat.  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen anymore.   
  
Each time between grew shorter. Ron tried to count the days from the last time – _sixteen, seventeen, eighteen_ – but lost count when Harry glanced up at him, his eyes softer and brighter than Ron was used to, and Ron's heart skipped just enough for him to notice a flutter in his chest.

::

"Where's Hermione?" His mum asked as he entered the kitchen of the Burrow.  
  
His eyes roamed over the occupants of the chairs, landing on Harry and Ginny sitting together, only one of them looking at him.  
  
"She's not coming," he said simply and took the last empty seat.  
  
"She's hurting too, you know," Ginny said later as she and Ron washed the dishes.  
  
"You've talked to her then?"  
  
"Harry did."  
  
"Harry? When?"  
  
"He invited her to lunch yesterday. He was worried that your break-up would affect their friendship."  
  
Ron took a deep shaky breath and then started to laugh until his sides hurt and tears misted his vision.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ginny asked, staring at him like he had gone mad.  
  
"Nothing," he managed to say. "So, have a nice holiday?"  
  
"Wonderful," she replied.  
  
The war really did turn us into good liars, Ron thought.

::

The flat seemed smaller somehow. As if suddenly there wasn't enough room for the two of them. It even seemed strangely suffocating when Harry wasn't home.  
  
After waiting for hours for Harry to return from Ginny's flat, eight days since the last time they had done it, Ron flung open his bedroom door when he heard the creak of the wood floors as Harry passed.   
  
"I'm thinking of getting my own flat," Ron said.   
  
Silence while Harry's hand hovered over the doorknob to his bedroom. His hand visibly trembled and Ron told himself that it was from the cold outside and Harry's forgetfulness to bring his gloves.  
  
"You don't…" Harry said finally. A brief pause and Ron thought he should take it back, tell Harry he'd stay. "I'll go."  
  
"I already found one," Ron replied, anger that he didn't know he had been feeling bleeding through the numbness.   
  
"Oh."   
  
"Right then, I'll leave you enough money for this month's rent."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's the right thing to do."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I meant _why_."  
  
"Oh, because I suppose it's time for me to be out on my own. I'm young, unattached, can shag whoever I want and if I fancy shagging them on the kitchen table –"  
  
"Right," Harry said his voice dangerously low. "Shag who you want."  
  
"You… I can't believe…" Ron's fists clenched. "What did you expect, Harry? What did you want, us to keeping doing it while you're still shagging my sister?"  
  
"You didn't say…" Harry blinked innocently. "You want me to end it with Ginny?"  
  
"I didn't say that!"  
  
Two steps from Ron that would've taken Harry four and he closed the gap between them. Grabbing a fistful of Harry's jumper, he pushed him against the nearest wall.   
  
"I will," Harry said quietly, seemingly unnerved by Ron's anger. "If you want –"  
  
"You don't love her! It shouldn't be about us."  
  
Harry lowered his eyes to Ron's mouth. "It is," he whispered before starting _it_ again with a simple gentle kiss that included more lips than tongue, but was enough for Ron to press harder against Harry, feeling Harry's growing erection against his thigh.

::

Ginny's gasp woke him up. Ron opened his eyes and wondered what she was doing standing in the doorway of his room and why she looked so upset. Harry snorted and rolled over, throwing an arm around his bare stomach.  
  
"Bollocks!" _We're in Harry's room…_ Ron jumped up, waking Harry, who scrambled to find his glasses. "Ginny! Wait! I can… Fuck, Harry!"  
  
Harry rushed passed him out the door, returning a moment later, swearing under his breath and looking for his jeans.  
  
Ron found them in a ball at the foot of the bed and handed them to him. Harry reached for them and they paused, both holding on to them for a moment.   
  
"You'll still be here when I get back?"  
  
Ron nodded, unsure if that was the truth.

::

"She hates me," Ron said, his face buried in his hands.  
  
"Right now she does," Hermione said, sitting stiffly across from him. "She'll get over it. She understands more than you think."  
  
"Do you hate me?" Ron asked, looking up.  
  
"No… I… it hurts, I won't lie," she said. "Was it… was it what you always wanted?"  
  
"It?" _Oh, she thinks…_ " _It_ wasn't the first time."  
  
Her hand flew to her mouth, hiding the small 'o' her lips had formed. "Since when?"  
  
"Since –"  
  
"Never mind, I don't want to know," she said, standing up and putting her teacup in their sink next to the one Harry had left there that morning.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You're a coward, Ron. You're both cowards."

::

Ron heard the door to his bedroom open and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep.  
  
Softly, Harry sat on the bed and trailed his fingers along Ron's spine. It had been five days since it last happened. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was different than you and Hermione. I just… I needed time."  
  
"Was _it_ worth it?" asked Ron quietly.  
  
Harry stretched out next to Ron, lying close enough that the stubble on his chin tickled Ron's shoulder. "It, yeah, it… you were worth it."  
  
Ron rolled around to face him and placed a light hand on Harry's hip. "We could give it - us a try."  
  
"That's all I ever wanted. What do you want?"  
  
"Want…" Ron flexed his fingers on Harry's hip, arousal beginning to stir deep in his groin. "To stop being a coward. To give you the best… it's what you deserve."  
  
Harry closed his eyes and Ron leaned in and kissed him and kept kissing him, until the guilt dissolved and allowed his heart to open up just enough to let the best part free.  
  
_Fin_  



End file.
